Remembering Rumpelstiltskin
by Amanda N. Lupin
Summary: Mr. Gold was still pinching himself, waiting to wake up from a dream in which she could be alive, standing here in his shop. He supposes he deserves it if she never remembers him, maybe it's better than her remembering and hating him for what he did to her, but this time he's never letting her go. **Rumbelle, AU from Season One Finale events. Rated M to be safe for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1: The Story of Us

It was strange standing behind the counter of the shop working on his ledger like any other day, this was far better than any day he could remember in far too long. Trying to ignore the young woman who was studying each item in the shop as she dusted the shelves no one in Storybrooke bothered to disturb was as wasted an effort as trying to deter her from cleaning. He'd tried to tell her, the shop was just something to do, he didn't need it, nobody here did really, but she steadfastly refused, determined to help in whatever way she could, to make up for her 'imposing on him.'

He couldn't tell her of course, couldn't say that nothing she could do or ask of him would ever be too much, now he knew what losing her was like. It would only overwhelm her, or worse still, could frighten her off, she could scarcely remember who she was in this world, and she remembered nothing of Fairy world, him, or their history. He clung to the hope that one day it would come back to her, surely that was possible, wasn't it? Was it foolish to hope as much?

Daring to glance up from his ledger only when he knew her to be engrossed in her self-assigned cleaning tasks, he tried to soothe the sickening feeling in his stomach. The thought that no matter how much he blamed Moe, or Regina, he had played a hand in her fate, was partly to blame for her current state. He deserved not to have her remember him. He deserved her hating him, if she ever did remember her former life.

**_"I was told you'd protect me."_**

Yes he would protect her, of course he would. How could he not? And yet, in keeping her close to him... was he not putting her in even greater danger, exposing a weakness that Regina or others might try to exploit or use against him? And what of himself? Could he let go of the possibility of finding Bae, even if he hated him? The dark one had already more than proved the damage he could cause. How could he chose between his love the son he had lost, and the woman he loved?

She was lingering over a cup, he realized, her cup. Was it possible? Did she know? And how had that got on the shelves with everything else? He crossed the small shop in seconds.

"That shouldn't be out here," he whispered standing beside her, but reluctant to snatch the cup away from her view in the off-chance there might be a spark of recognition. Instead she turned her head to study him curiously.

"Is it not for sale," she asked confused.

"Oh no dearie, I could never sell this, no one could afford it," he added not completely untruthfully.

"It's not a very complicated pattern," she observed softly, darting a glance his way to watch his reactions to her assessments. "And it's chipped."

"Barely noticeable," he replied echoing her words from another time, another life.

"So it must have belonged to someone important," she concluded, looking back from the cup to his face for confirmation. He nodded.

"It belonged to a princess."

"Really?" He nodded once more. "Aren't there any she didn't break?" He laughed, unable to help himself, even without her memories of their history she was still Belle. Perhaps not his Belle, as she might once have been, but still Belle.

"No, they were destroyed you see by a man who fell in love with her."

"Why would he do that, did she not love him?"

"No, she did. She loved him more than anything, but he was much older, ugly, and bitter, feared. He was convinced the princess' love was a trick to make him weak and destroy him. He sent her away, back to her family. But after it was clear she had let herself be taken in by such a villain, they rejected her. Her father locked her away, sought out the help of clerics and priests to cleanse her affection for him. The story says she died a few weeks later, unable to bear the rejection of her love and the family she once knew she threw herself from the tower they locked her in. And the man she loved, well he was inconsolable, more lost and broken than ever, he was never the same. The cup was all he had left of her, the one she broke, the only one he couldn't bear to destroy in the rage and insanity that followed."

"That's terrible," she whispered sadly, gently picking up the cup to cradle it in her fingers, caressing the handle gently as she studied it.

"Yes," he agreed, taking the cup as she handed it to him, and bringing it back to the safety of his office, placing it delicately in the middle of his desk

"You're a very good story-teller, Mr. Gold," she smiled softly, following behind him. "You tell that story as if you knew them both."

"In another life perhaps, dearie," he sighed, loving and hating the sound of his other name on her lips.

"Do you believe in that-other lives," she tested inquisitively.

"Do you know," he smiled slightly, "I think perhaps I might. What do you think?"

"I don't know," she replied softly. "It's all still sort of jumbled," she replied blushing slightly, gesturing towards her head, and Gold fought yet another wave of guilt that came crashing towards him.

They would pay. Moe already had, but he would make sure Regina suffered every bit as much as Belle had. And he would suffer his own punishment in being near, but unable to touch, unable to reveal who they had been and everything he felt.  
"It's just sometimes I have these dreams," she continued, as he pulled himself back to the present to listen to her. "But they don't seem like dreams at all. They feel... real. I... You'll think I'm crazy," she trailed off nervously, ducking to avoid his eyes.

"No," he replied immediately, and perhaps a little to firmly because she seemed to jump almost imperceptibly to anyone who wasn't as sharp, who didn't watch her so closely. And since her return no one watched this curious new arrival more than Gold. "No dearie," he amended a bit softer, wishing desperately he could just take her hand, to hold or squeeze it with some form of affection. He took her shoulder instead, as he had last night when he had needed to be sure she wasn't a figment of his imagination. "You're not crazy," only for ever having loved me, he thought.

"I must have been locked up for a reason," she replied uncertainly, shrugging out of his grip on her. Reluctantly he let his hand fall back to his side.

"You were locked up because..." He paused, not having thought ahead of what he might say, and how much he could tell her truthfully. "You were never insane Isabella," he replied hating that he had to use her full name, so formal and distant. "You were locked up because of me."

She took a step back, but even so she looked disbelieving. The man who had helped her to escape, whomever he was, had told her to find him, that Mr. Gold would protect her. She couldn't believe her rescuer, or this man even having known him such a brief time would intentionally bring her any harm. He was intimidating, and it was easy to see as Townspeople had come and go from the shop he had influence, and respect, they feared him, but it was different somehow with her. She couldn't even have said why, but his face was softer somehow when he thought she wasn't looking, and he was almost... tender with her in a way she was sure no one would believe if they didn't see it first-hand, and he was far too guarded for that.

"You didn't lock me away," she replied shaking her head. "That woman.. Regina?" She waited for the confirmation of malice in his eyes at the name before continuing. "Regina locked me away. She came to see me. She never said anything, but sometimes I would wake up and see her smiling at me through the door, laughing at me." Gold felt his fists curl, the knuckles gripping his cane becoming deathly white.

"It was my fault," he whispered ashamed, turning away unable to look at her anymore, only to find his eyes fixed instead on her teacup, he shut his eyes with a heavy sigh, he couldn't win.

"I don't believe it," she whispered softly, shaking her head. Of course she didn't, Gold laughed, she didn't think ill of anyone.

"Regina would never have threatened you... You wouldn't have been a thought in her head if she..." Gold struggled in vain to find the right words, but what could he say to her that wouldn't reveal their history, or completely overwhelm her? "She needed you to get to me," he concluded.


	2. Chapter 2: Home

"She used me? To get to you," she repeated confused. She knew very little of him, but from what she had seen today with his interactions with the townsfolk, he didn't appear to be a man with many vulnerabilities or weaknesses. "But I don't understand, last night you said... When I asked you if I knew you, you said... I don't..." Gold helped usher her into a chair.

"I'm sorry dearie, when I said you don't know me," Gold choked, seeing her eyes full of tears nearly broke him. No, he would not make her cry again, never again if could do anything to stop it. "You don't remember me, I could see it the moment you walked in the shop, when I touched your shoulder," he continued. "And after everything you had been through, I didn't want you to guilty about something that couldn't possibly be your fault."

"But..."

"It's not your fault you can't remember Isabella. It's not your fault, because it is mine."

"What were we," she asked, studying him cautiously. "Why did Regina take me? What's so special about me?" Everything, Gold wanted to reply immediately. There is not a single strand of hair on your head that isn't special, that I wouldn't hunt someone down if they harmed, but he bit his tongue. He shook his head.

"It will come back to you, when it's meant to," he replied softly. He wasn't going to rush her, and as much as the young woman admired it she was infuriated by it. He knew, he knew what they were, who she was, and he was being too noble to tell her, but he seemed to have her best interests at heart so she simply nodded. Gold breathed a sigh of relief, and tension he hadn't even noticed he was carrying lift from his shoulders, as it left strength leaving too leading him to lean more heavily on his cane, damn limp.

"Now dearie," he continued trying to coax a smile back out of her beautiful face. "You were going to tell me about these dreams you were having, what do you say we close the shop early and head home for some tea?"

He had meant to head up into the forest, to bring magic to Storybrooke, the vial-the last of the world's first and only True Love potion was still in his coat pocket, but suddenly it hardly mattered anymore. He had true love, unrequited perhaps, but more honest than anything he'd ever done in his life.

He couldn't think of his powers now, or anyone or anything but her, only of bringing her to his home and taking care of her. Taking care of her, making sure she wanted for nothing ever again, every day for the rest of his life.

They had slept in the back office last night. She had been so tired, he couldn't bring himself to make her walk the additional blocks to get home. He would have carried her if he'd been his former self, without the limp... Would she want him now? She had fallen in love with him when he was still under the influence of the dark one? Who was to say she would want a weak, secretly sentimental old man.

He'd called it home, as if maybe it could or once was hers too, and she felt her heart leap, before forcing the sensation back down. Not his place, or his house, home. She tried not to make too much of the noun, but somehow it cheered her, warmed a part of her heart she had almost lost faith and hope in locked in that dark and sightless basement. She hardly knew him, and somehow she suspected the same proposition for anyone else would have been met with distrust and fear, but already found she liked the idea of a home with him.

The word didn't escape Gold's notice either once it had slipped past his tongue. Yes, this time she would have a home. He wouldn't turn her away, or cast her aside again, even if she never remembered him, never loved him again as she had once. She smiled, and he felt his heart melt, how had he ever resisted her, ever thought he could be rid of her simply by removing her from his sight?

"I'd like that," she replied softly.

"Good," he grinned. Somehow, he thought, he was going to find a way to make her smile like that always.

"It's beautiful," she whispered softly, unable to stop herself. The small house at the edge of town was far more than she had ever expected of the mystery that was Mr. Gold. A house like this didn't add up. The sparsely furnished apartment above the shop seemed what one would expect of a bitter, lonely, old man like Mr. Gold, but this house was... Well it was warm. And goodness it was large. Gold might like to have nice things, but it seemed peculiar that a man who lived alone would want such a space. Perhaps he hadn't always lived alone, she thought, but casting a brief sideways glance at him decided she didn't dare ask.

He smiled softly, she liked it. It was a silly thing to be so pleased about. She had been dead before the curse was ever made, as far as he knew, it stood to reason only the living fairytale characters would travel with the curse, but somehow even in this world he had never entirely let go of her. Had thought when he first saw the place this had to be his, because if he could have it all to do over again, he would want to do so here, that Belle might like a place like this.

When he showed her to her room, Belle was sure there had been a Mrs. Gold. A room like this, couldn't possibly be just a guest room as he would have her believe. It was too furnished. Too specific. The closet full of clothes. This room was made for one woman, not just a passing friend or guest. For a moment she allowed herself to believe he had done this for her. The clothes were just her size, her taste, the furnishings seemed somehow familiar, and comforting, the soft gold walls and roses that decorated the walls were perfect.

She shook her head, she was being foolish, of course this room wasn't for her. He had only just met her, and he certainly hadn't been expecting to see her when she had walked in to his shop last night. He had looked on her like she was a ghost, as though any moment she might disappear. It could only be that she was making too much of his kindness to her, any room would look better than the cell that had been her home for god knew how long.

"Your room," he offered softly. "If you'll have it."

Tears flooded her eyes as she turned back to face him. It was too much, she thought, shaking her head. "I don't," she began choking, "I can't... It's too much Mr. Gold, I... I don't deserve all this."

"No, what you didn't deserve was that cell, this," he gestured to the room. "Isn't nearly enough. Please," he begged, don't cry he thought desperately. "Let me take care of you."


	3. Chapter 3: Just a Dream

Warm water, Gold thought. He laughed, but there was no tone of amusement in it. That such a beauty and innocent woman should be so grateful for such simple kindnesses... that she could not remember the last proper bath with warm water she had had, or that she would assign such a level of praise and awe to so simple a thing stymied him.

"Didn't you ever have baths while you were.. in the hospital?" Belle turned the tap up higher to fill the bath before turning back to him, shaking her head sadly. He supposed he had 28 years and plenty of false early memories to have gotten used to the idea of running and hot water, but even in the dark castle with magic at his disposal he had made sure he and his 'housekeeper' had wanted for nothing. "And before," he asked tentatively, holding back the hundreds of other questions he had about 28 years of non-magical life for Isabella French. Once more she shook her head, with the same sweeping gesture that had come to indicate this part of her memory was fuzzy or lost to her.

"I don't remember anything before, the hospit-Regina used a hose. Once a week I think, but I didn't have any accurate way of keeping time, and it was always cold."

"A hose," Gold repeated, feeling his fists curl, scarcely daring to believe it, and far too angry to picture this beautiful, fragile, young woman subjected to such treatment. She nodded nervously. "Regina, did that to you?"

"Yes, she always complained about what a waste of time it was to bother cleaning me up. She said he would never come to see me," she hesitated. "But I got the distinct impression she looked forward to it." It had regularly left her with aching muscles and bruises, but upon seeing how angry just this information was making her companion, decided it best not to mention this.

"I'll kill her," he muttered under his breath. She shook her head, but offered no alternative solution. "Your bath is ready," he offered softly, standing to leave her in peace.

"Wait," she blurted out before she could stop herself. He turned back, quirking an eyebrow at her curiously. "It's silly," she muttered dismissively, but when it was clear he was waiting on her response, she continued. "It's just... Can't you stay? I... I don't want to be alone again just yet."

Of course she didn't he thought shaking his head, foolish man. God only knew how long she had been all alone in that dark cell.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I don't want to suffocate you, you're just being nice," she stumbled quickly.

"No," Gold replied quickly. "No, don't be sorry. It's alright," he replied, desperate to erase any doubt she had he could want anything more than her company. "I'll just give you a moment, you can draw the curtain and let me know when you're ready, I'll be just outside the door."

He was surprisingly noble for someone who seemed to like giving off the air of not giving a damn what anyone else said or thought of him, she thought as the door clicked shut. His shirt and slacks hung loose on her too thin frame, and the hospital gown she had arrived in his shop in the night before had left even less to be imagined. To suggest that she was the town crazy would have been too kind, did anyone besides Gold, Regina, and the mysterious man who had rescued her even know she was locked up, that she existed? He could take advantage of her, do with her as he pleased, there was nothing and no one to stop him, but he was the perfect gentleman, and every bit the protector her rescuer had promised.

Who was Mr. Gold? He knew her, she was sure of it, had felt it from the moment her appearance rendered him speechless. She struggled racking her brain for anything about him, but found nothing, only the ever-present sense of familiarity and warmth he stirred in her. A soft knock stirred her from her reverie, as she slid into the hot water and bubbles. Drawing the curtain for him, she beckoned him back in, following his shadow as he gently lowered himself onto the floor across from her, his cane deposited on the tile beside him with a gentle clatter. She frowned, she should have thought of that, there was hardly a good or comfortable place for him to sit with his knee and entertain her company. She was grateful not to be alone, but suddenly felt selfish for putting him out, and couldn't be sure what to say or talk about. She needn't have worried, it was Gold who spoke up first.

"You said 'he,' he who," Gold asked puzzled.

"Sorry," she replied confused.

"You said Regina told you 'he would never come to see you,' who was she talking about?" She shook her head before realizing the ridiculousness of this gesture, since he couldn't see her through the curtain.

"I don't know," she replied frowning. "She never gave me a name," This had puzzled and frustrated her too. Somewhere beyond the four concrete walls there was someone who knew about her, who had cared about her once. Did they still? Did they know where she was? What had happened to her? Perhaps they had been the one to leave her there...

Sometimes she allowed herself to believe she didn't belong in that place, that someday this man Regina swore would never come for her would show up and spirit her away. But this was the sort of fantasy that had led to her madness, if anything Regina or the nurse said was to be believed.

"So tell me about these dreams of yours Dearie," he prompted softly. She froze nervously midway through unbraiding her plaited locks. It had to be crazy, he swore she wasn't but had known her only hours, and the thought of him learning she really did belong in that awful place, perhaps even returning her there, terrified her.

"Belle," he tried gently.

"Nobody calls me that," she replied surprised.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, kicking himself. Isabella, Isabella French, not his Belle, he corrected mentally.

"Don't be, I don't mind it. I don't suppose anyone has called me much of anything for a while now. I like it," she replied softly. It was true, something about that name seemed fit her better than Isabella, it was comfortable-like an old pair of shoes.

"They're just fairy tales," she whispered faintly, almost praying he wouldn't hear her. "the dreams..."  
Gold froze, forcing himself to swallow his heart which seemed to have jumped up into his throat. "What sort of fairy tales dearie," he asked, hoping rather than believing he was managing to conceal the hope and uncertainty in his voice. Belle hesitated, before forcing herself to be brave and plow forward. Whatever anyone else in Storybrooke thought, Gold was a good man, if he did decide to take her back to that dreadful place, surely it would be because that was what was best for her.

"Just the same ones everyone hears as a child," she replied, attempting to brush the query off. The thought of coming back home with him, tea and stories had sounded wonderful, back in the shop, but now she had to admit she was hoping to hear more of his stories than share her own. "Mostly they seem to be about Beauty and the Beast, or at least some version of them."

"You said your dreams, don't seem like dreams..." Belle nodded again.

"They're almost real, like I lived them... like memories," she whispered timidly.

"So in these dreams of yours, you're Belle," he prompted softly. No wonder she had jumped when he had called her that.

"Yes. Not a difficult leap, our names are so similar. I suppose I must have heard the stories as a child, maybe my mother or father read them to me," she continued attempting to rationalize her thoughts. Perhaps if she could make herself seem and sound more stable now, he would let her stay. Belle ducked her head under the water to rinse her long brunette locks, emerging from the warm water only enough to keep her face and ears above water, relishing the warmth that wrapped around her.

"Who was it you imagined was the beast, in your memories?" Was it possible, Gold thought swallowing hard. Could she remember, but believe them only to be dreams?


	4. Chapter 4: Seeking Answers

He had called them memories, but surely that was a mistake. A slip of the tongue, like calling her Belle earlier. She struggled to find what she felt was the correct response. At the time she had no idea who it was she was dreaming about, who might be the real life inspiration, or at least the likeness of her 'beast', but that wasn't true anymore, and despite the fact the curtain that protected her modesty prevented her from having to see him, she didn't think she could bring herself to lie to him.

But the truth was crazy. How could she tell him she had her own moment of being overwhelmed when she had first seen him in his shop last night? Was it possible they had been more than friends as he had implied, or perhaps that she had wanted them to be? Was that why he was her fairytale other half in these dreams? She couldn't tell him that, she would be on the street, or worse, back in that dreadful place in a heartbeat.

"I didn't recognize him in the dreams -from what I could remember, but I still can't remember much. I suppose it was strange though, because he was supposed to be Rumplestiltskin, and from what I remember of the stories he was never a part of the Beauty and the Beast myth. He had his own fairy tale." There, not a lie, not entirely at least, though she still had a hard time swallowing it.

Gold felt his heart race and drop out simultaneously. She remembered. She was convinced they were dreams, but there was still something there, perhaps if he could just find something to spark her memory, or convince her she wasn't crazy...

But then again, what exactly did she remember? They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and while he'd been heartbroken- a wretch without her warm presence to light up his dark world, she had been locked away gods knew where and had no way of knowing he cared for her. The last thing he'd ever said to her had been a lie. That he didn't, couldn't, and would never love her as much as his power. Perhaps these dreams she remembered were nightmares. He tried to steady himself for this entirely likely scenario before replying.

"Rumplestiltskin wasn't a very pleasant character either, I suppose I can see where he could be a beast," Gold replied a bit mournfully. He supposed he should be grateful she couldn't remember he was the monster who had charmed the beauty.

"No, but he wasn't," she replied insistently. "Not with me. It was different. He wasn't evil like in his story... he was cursed."

"Cursed?"

"Yes, but I never found out why," she replied sadly, "I might have helped him, if he had let me, but that's when I wake or less," she added, it was foolish to think a few minutes more sleep might have solved it, but she had always woken from such dreams impossibly frustrated, each time hoping she might dream a little further, each time only reliving the same story again and again, waking in tears. Why did some silly fairytale effect her so, why did it always have to feel so real?

"You would have helped a monster like him," Gold asked softly, thinking not for the first time a man as dark as himself could never deserve such a creature. Even without her memories she was an angel.

Isabella couldn't help, but feel somehow Mr. Gold was speaking about more than just the fictional character of Rumplestiltskin. Suddenly it seemed very important that she be able to see him, and forsaking any sense of propriety, she pulled the curtains back to look at him. Mr. Gold seemed momentarily stunned, before he began to determinedly focus on staring unseeingly at the wall behind her head.

"He wasn't a monster," she insisted softly, meeting his eyes with her own. "He was a man once, he might have been again, under the right circumstances, or for the right person..." If she only knew, Gold thought shaking his head sadly.

"I..." Mr. Gold met her eyes once more and suddenly Isabella found she couldn't remember what she had meant to say when she had begun to speak again.

Mr. Gold was careful to fix his gaze above her neck, waiting patiently. "Yes dearie," he prompted softly.

"I... Mr. Gold, can't you tell me anything, about us?"

* * *

"Is there anything you want to ask us, I mean you must have questions." Leading an entourage of Snow White, Prince Charming, Granny, Red Riding Hood, the Seven Dwarves, and Henry down main street Emma was pretty sure she had never been less in the mood to talk. Not to this present company anyway. It was too much. That Henry scampered along to keep up with her long strides where an hour before she had for all the world believed him to be lost to her forever was as much of the curse and her being "the savior" as she could handle right now.

"The only questions I have are for Mr. Gold. Why did he double-cross me, and what did he do to this town," Emma replied continuing to stomp down the street towards the familiar pawnshop. But Mary Margaret, or Snow White, or her mother, she shook her head, well she wasn't about to let this go so easily, and while the rest of the party seemed equally invested, it seemed she had been elected unofficial spokesmen for the group.

"Shouldn't we talk about, it first?"

"What," Emma replied distractedly. Henry frowned up at her to indicate he didn't approve of the way she was behaving or perhaps the way she was speaking to her mother. Didn't he understand how difficult this was for her? How was it everyone expected her to adapt to the idea this woman she had met only months ago, whom she had been living with, who was younger than she was, was her mother? It had been one thing, even amusing at times when it had merely been a crazy idea in Henry's head and his old book of fairytales, but now?

"Us. Your life. Everything," she persisted.

"Can we do everything maybe later? Like with a glass of wine? Or several bottles..." Emma muttered, marching forward.

"I know it's a lot to take in, for all of us..." David, or Charming, or whatever his name was stepped in.

"And we don't wanna push," Mary Margaret continued. "But we've waited for this moment for so long."

"Yeah, so have I," Emma cut her off, stopping to turn around and face the group. They looked hurt, and Henry was still frowning, and immediately Emma felt guilty. Perhaps she could afford to be a little more gentle. Save her hostility for Mr. Gold, and Regina whenever they found her again... "I've thought about this moment my entire life," she continued a little softer, and at this Mary Margaret looked as though she was going to hug her before thinking better of it. "I've imagined who you might be. But of all the scenarios that I've concocted, my parents being... I just need a little time that's all."

This seemed to be enough for now, and even Henry managed a half-smile up at her, before taking her hand as they continued down the street to find Mr. Gold, Regina, and more answers.

"Emma," Henry broached finally, tugging on her sleeve as she fiddled with the locked door to the shop trying to force her way in.

"Yeah," she asked not looking up from the lock, waiting for the tell-tale click that the lock had been pried open.

"Why are we looking for Mr. Gold?"

"Because I didn't kill a dragon to get that damn potion so he could run off with it. He was supposed to be helping me save you."

"You killed a DRAGON," Henry repeated impressed. The rest of the group too seemed to be in awe at this new revelation from their savior.

"Yeah I did. Gold said the potion, True Love, would bring you back."

"It did. True love did bring me back," Henry smiled happily. "You didn't need the potion, you're the savior."

"Then why the theatrics? What did Mr. Gold need it for?"


	5. Chapter 5: Trinkets and Deja Vu

The door swung open with the tinkle of the bell revealing an empty store front to the large waiting party. He wasn't here, Emma thought frustratedly, kicking the door the rest of the way open for the others to follow her in. Mary Margaret and David were immediately drawn to a glass mobile that hung near the front of the store, the dwarves to a series of steins, and Granny and Red to an old rocking chair hidden in the corner. Mr. Gold it seemed had collected a little something from each of their fairytale lives.

"Emma this was yours, we..." Mary Margaret was saying, unaware that her daughter and grandson had continued into the back office to continue their search.

The egg. There it was, sitting on the desk beside the lamp. Open. Open and empty.

"That little double-crossing..." Emma muttered under her breath, cutting herself off before she said anything she would regret her son hearing, but she needn't have bothered, one look back at him and she was sure he was as engrossed in his book as any of the rest of the party that accompanied her were with their trinkets in the front of the shop.

"I figured it out," Henry exclaimed triumphantly, tearing Emma away from her search for clues of where the man of the hour might have disappeared to.

"Figured what out?"

"Mr. Gold! I know who he is," Henry replied happily.

"Great, I don't suppose you know where he is," Emma asked, coming to sit beside him on the couch as he pulled the book over between their two laps.

"Woah, wait a minute kid, this is the story of Beauty and the Beast." Henry nodded beaming. "But if Mr. Gold is the beast, then who is Beauty?" Henry placed a broken medical bracelet he'd found on the sofa in the middle of the book pages.

"Isabella French."

* * *

"Belle," Mr. Gold struggled trying to think of what to say, where to start, how much to tell her at once. "Isabella," he corrected mentally kicking himself again.

"That's the second time you've called me that. Was that what you called me, before?"

"Yes," he admitted softly. He supposed there was no harm in telling her that much, at least now he wouldn't have to worry about catching himself anymore. She nodded.

"And my room," she continued. "Did I live here, with you, before?"

"No," Gold shook his head. She frowned. The room had felt so familiar to her, but perhaps this was another manifestation of the madness that had gotten her locked up. Mr. Gold didn't like the silence that fell over her, or the frown that had appeared on her face.

"We never lived here before," he corrected almost inaudibly. Belle looked up, studying him intently.

"We?" Mr. Gold nodded, avoiding her gaze. So there was a 'we,' of some sort. Maybe she wasn't so crazy...

"But we did live together once," Belle asked cautiously.

"Your water must be getting cold," he replied swiftly changing the subject. "Why don't you dry off and get some clothes from the closet while I fix us that tea I promised."

"And then you'll tell me about us, before?"

"Perhaps," Mr. Gold replied softly leaving her to change.

This wasn't a good idea, she should remember on her own, in her own time, but she would never stop asking him, prodding, until she found the answers she was looking for, and she was already so close to them. And how could he ever say no to her? And wasn't 28 years long enough to wait, he thought pulling the whistling kettle from the stove as he heard the tell-tale creak of the top stair as she came down to meet him.

He felt the tears creeping up on him in spite of himself, and busied himself with adding the cream and sugar when he heard her pull the stool out from the counter to sit across the counter from him. He was going to lose her all over again. Surely once she remembered everything...

"Mr. Gold," She whispered softly.

"Belle," he started, swallowing hard, before trying again. "I'm sorry Belle, if you want to know about us before, I... I thought maybe you would remember on your own, but if you want to know I'll tell you whatever you want. I'm being selfish. It's just... We didn't part on good terms Belle," he confessed softly. "I guess I thought..."

"You thought if I remembered I would leave," she finished understanding. Gold set the teacup down on the counter, not trusting his trembling fingers not to spill the tea, or break the cup.

"Yes."

"And just where is it you imagine I would go?" He laughed, but it sounded to Belle more hollow than she would have liked. She had snuck up behind him while he had been lost in his thoughts preparing their tea, and startled him placing a gentle hand over the top of his in a comforting gesture. "I'm not going anywhere, not unless you want me to."

"There are safer places than with someone like me," he mumbled, finally turning around to hand her her cup of tea. She was shaking her head. Gold struggled to suppress a reaction when both her hands brushed over his once more as the cup was transferred his hands tingling, almost burning from her touch, and failed entirely as his eyes took in the dress she had chosen, feeling his heart leap into his throat. Dear God, of all the things he had secured for her closet... was this his penance for his crimes?

He had tried to be diplomatic about staying with her while she had been in the bath-drawn the curtain, forced himself not to look when she had opened it... Now his eyes couldn't help but to roam over her. She was so close... Still too thin, he would have to fix that, but the soft white silk clung to her tiny frame highlighting her delicate figure in a way a man would have to be blind not to appreciate. Her still wet hair had been pulled back into a familiar half done up bun, but several flyaway tendrils still hung and clung about her face. She looked like an angel.

"Belle, that dress...erm," Gold struggled. She can't have known that was meant for bed. Why on Earth had he even bought such a thing in the first place, he thought cursing himself.

"Yes," she smiled gently.

"It.. You look... it looks wonderful on you," he finished lamely. But if his compliment was somewhat stunted she gave no notice of it.

"Thank you," she blushed, offering a mock courtesy, so familiar that he felt sure he felt his heart stop. Suddenly he wished he had a rose.

A knock, or rather a persistent series of them interrupted the moment before Gold could say anything more or appreciate the flush he had brought to her cheeks. Who the hell could that be, and what was so important that they would be bothering him now, Gold thought furiously.

He heard the door creak before he realized she was answering it for him, and rushed to her in a panic. Who was to say it wasn't Regina at the door, determined to take her away from him again.

"Belle, wait," he said quickly, jumping between her and the door which was swinging open. She looked surprised, but took a step back, thankfully remaining behind him, even clasping his hand in hers, which he squeezed in a gentle, reassuring gesture.

"Emma," Gold greeted breathing a sigh of relief. "And company," he added uncertainly noticing the large party behind her on the bottom steps. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Gold," Emma replied without warmth. She was still studying the small figure that hid behind him a little too intently for Gold's liking. Was she wearing a neglige? Just what had they been doing before answering the door? "Are we interrupting something," she asked, trying to get a better glimpse of the young woman. She looked young, far too young to be with Mr. Gold. "Isabella," she tried. The girl's head shot up in recognition.

"Hello," she replied timidly. "I'm sorry," the girl frowned stepping out from behind Gold to see her. "Do I know you?"

"No," Emma replied still frowning. "Emma Swan."

"And I'm..." Snow White began smiling, but Mr. Gold quickly cut her off.

"Mary Margaret and David Nolan: Mrs. Swan's parents, Ruby, Granny..." he explained pointing to each before they could reveal their fairytale alter egos.

"I didn't realize you had so many friends," she smiled softly up at him. "We were just about to have tea," she said warmly. Mr. Gold sighed, conceding the inevitable-he would not be getting rid of them any time soon, but he was not about to allow them the opportunity to reveal their world, or overwhelm Belle with their stories. There was only one story Rumplestiltskin cared about her remembering.

"Belle, why don't you go put the kettle back on, I'll be in in a moment," he instructed gently. Belle nodded smiling before returning to the kitchen, Gold watched her go before stepping out on to the porch to face the waiting party and shutting the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6: A little Chat

"There a reason you aren't inviting us in Mr. Gold," Emma prodded as the man gently shut the front door behind him sequestering the group out on the porch.

"Several," he growled, frowning at the group. Whatever they wanted, they would have nothing to do with Belle. He wasn't about to lose her again, not when he'd just got her back. The savior in her newly found role seemed to be a mind-reader as well.

"And that tiny thing in bedroom attire, is she one of them?"

"I don't see how that is any concern of yours Sheriff," Gold barked defensively.

"Oh I don't know, escaped hospital patient..." Emma continued, producing the bracelet he had been quick to cut from her wrist. Where had she got that? "I'd say that's definitely within my jurisdiction," she shrugged. Gold visibly blanched before tightening his grip on his cane. He didn't truthfully wish any ill to any of them, aside from the fact they had interrupted a perfectly-well wonderful moment, probably the happiest one he'd had in 28 years; but if it came down to it, they were going to have to go through him to get to her.

"She's not a threat to anyone," he replied quickly. The '_you are not taking her back there_,' unspoken, but ringing loud and clear in his tone.

"Funnily enough that wasn't my first concern," Emma replied, raising an eyebrow and watching him skeptically.

"Whatever you are implying, I've done nothing untoward to her. I would never hurt... I would never take advantage of..." Henry looked up to his mother, Emma was inclined to believe him, her lie detector was not sending up any red flags, and the stammering was certainly compelling, but she'd been fooled by this man before.

"You were happy to take advantage of everyone else. You didn't have any qualms leaving me down in that elevator shaft," Emma pointed out. She made a good point, but the hell if Mr. Gold was going to give her any ground to separate him from the angel even now making herself at home in his kitchen. Suddenly realizing the direction this was turning Henry decided to speak up.

"You can't split them up," he protested loudly, drawing all the heads towards him. "You're the savior," Henry said simply as though this explained everything. "You're supposed to bring back the happy endings. Isabella, she's your happy ending," he continued turning to Mr. Gold. It wasn't a question, but Mr. Gold nodded anyway.

"Your flicker of light," David whispered stunned.

"Amidst an ocean of darkness," Mr. Gold finished fainter still, almost inaudibly. Oh he had played it off as a little trifle, a minor annoyance or inconvenience to his otherwise busy and fulfilling life of making deals and ruining lives, but what anguish he had felt then, helping the Prince to find his true love believing his own to be lost forever. He was almost grateful for the Dark One then, certain if he hadn't held so much sway over him he would have killed himself in an effort to follow her. But then, if there had been no Dark One perhaps he would never have sent her away... What a headache and vicious cycle of events. He shook his head, forcing his mind and focus back to the present.

"You said the one you loved died," David continued, eyeing him suspiciously. Gold nodded.

"I thought she had. Regina told me her father drove her to suicide after I sent her away."

"I knew that couldn't be the end of the story," Henry interjected happily, grinning.

"So all this time," Mary Margaret whispered softly, gracing him with a pitying look Mr. Gold was not entirely comfortable being on the receiving end of. "She's been locked up, here in the hospital." She shook her head, pushing her body into David's in a half-hug, remembering the countless years she had unwittingly spent at the bedside of her own true love in Storybrooke's hospital.

"You said he hurt her," Emma repeated stunned, her head suddenly snapping up with frightening velocity to meet his gaze. "So when you when I found you attacking Moe... you thought he was responsible for her death?" Mr. Gold hung his head, was that... shame? Seeing really was believing, if Emma wasn't seeing it she would never have believed it.

"I owe him an apology it would seem. Regina was quite convincing. I wept at her grave," he trailed off quietly. Most of the party if their expressions were anything to go by seemed to have a difficult time envisioning this, but a mutual animosity towards the evil queen was most definitely shared.

"Alright, what about the potion?"

"Proof of the curse had to be irrefutable, there couldn't be even the slightest chance that you could write it off like before," Mr. Gold replied softly. "I couldn't take the chance of two witches when the curse broke, Maleficent would have made a powerful enemy. And I had to make sure Regina would never get her hands on it."

"But now that Regina knows you have it, don't you think she'll come after you?"

"Let her try," Gold growled ferociously. "Magic or not, I'll tear her limb from limb."

"Then it seems we have a common enemy," Granny pipped up from behind the group, the dwarves and other party members nodded.

"So what do you say about letting us in Mr. Gold," Emma queered. He continued to hesitate, appraising the group carefully. They all meant well, but could he trust them with someone as precious as Belle? Not yet.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not altogether thrilled with the idea of my home becoming your center for operations," he replied coolly.

"What is it you're trying to shield her from, she has as much reason to hate Regina as the rest of us," Ruby protested, stamping her feet in an effort to keep them from falling asleep in the autumn chill. "And I'm cold," she complained under her breath.

"She doesn't remember," Henry whispered surprised. "But the curse... It's broken, why.."

"Indeed little prince, she does not," Gold replied. Henry blushed ducking his head, he wouldn't admit it, but he didn't dislike the title.

"So that's why you wouldn't allow us to introduce ourselves," Mary Margaret whispered.

"I'm still learning what she went through the last 28 years. She can't remember anything before the asylum. Regina or whatever _nurses_ she had have done a thorough job of brainwashing her. She thinks our past is a dream, or some sort of delusion, the last thing she needs is to be overwhelmed and confronted with it all at once."

"But she remembers," Henry insisted. "If she thinks it's dreams, or crazy then she remembers, she just doesn't _believe_ it." Emma felt herself blush as Henry emphasized this. "You have to convince her Mr. Gold. You have to help her believe again, you have to help her trust her memories."

"I was lucky she ever thought she loved me once, I never deserved her."

"You're afraid," David concluded. Mr. Gold wished he would stop flaunting his love for Mary Margaret, it truly was sickening watching the pair fawn over one another and their demand for constant physical contact. It almost made him feel sorry for Ms. Swan, but then he supposed if he could he would not be so different with Belle.

"Yes," Mr. Gold snapped bitterly. "Yes I'm afraid." She was right. Bae was right. I'm a coward he thought angrily, always will be.

"She has to believe Mr. Gold," Henry insisted. "It's the only way you can have your happy ending."

"Villains don't get the happy endings, Henry." The little prince shook his head.

"You're not a bad guy Mr. Gold," Henry persisted.

"Oh," Gold raised an eyebrow, the rest of the party turning to hear what the youngest member had to say.

"You're a good guy who made a lot of bad choices. That doesn't have to be who you are. That doesn't mean you can't make good ones now." He snorted, and the prince's companions seemed equally skeptical.

"You really are the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming, if 10 years with Regina didn't knock that optimism out of you."

"Yup, and the son of the savior," he smiled, grinning up at Emma.

"Do I need to worry about you Mr. Gold," the woman of the hour asked cautiously.

"Your debt is paid and I'm not in a dealing mood at the moment, you've nothing to fear from me Ms. Swan, though if it's Regina you are after I daresay you will be hearing from me." Emma nodded.

"We're trying to figure out who is siding with whom. When we get a bit more organized we could benefit from your knowledge, no one knows her as well as you do," David added. Gold nodded.

"I'll think about it." This seemed to satisfy for which he was glad, the group resumed it's march, presumably to find other comrades for the final battle. He wanted nothing more than to get back in the house to her.

"Mr. Gold," Henry panted, having spontaneously turned and run back to him one block up the street. "True love's kiss can break any curse," he smiled. "I hope I get to meet her someday, soon!" Cheeky little bastard, Gold thought, though he couldn't help, but grin watching him run to catch back up with his mother who waited for him.


	7. Chapter 7: Guilt

"Oh," Belle exclaimed surprised turning on her heels at the click of his cane to find him alone as he returned to the kitchen. "When you said to put the kettle back on I thought maybe your friend's would be joining us." Gold stopped mid-stride taking her in, and swallowing hard, she had borrowed his coat from the hallway. "I'm sorry," she added becoming aware of his gaze. "This dress, it's beautiful, but I got a bit cold, you let me borrow it last night, but I should have asked, do you mind?" He shook his head, unable to form any words, but wanting to wipe the doubtful and insecure look from her face.

The coat should have been an improvement, something to cover more of her tantalizingly soft, porcelain skin the 'dress' did little for. But while the top four buttons may have concealed her breasts and collarbone, the coat was much too short to keep her legs from view, and Gold noted she had incredible legs. The temptation to pretend she wore nothing beneath his coat was damn near overwhelming, forcing him to alter his intended route to put the kitchen island between them to hide a growing bulge, and keep his hands to himself. The last thing she needed was a strange old man who couldn't keep his paws off her.

"They had other business to attend to, but I'll introduce you to them properly another time dearie," he promised, trying to redirect the conversation and his thoughts towards safer water. She smiled at this. They would like her, he thought, though it was difficult to see how anyone could do anything but.

"So I had a chance to look around a bit while you were talking to everyone," she began softly.

No, Gold thought, trying to force his heart to start again, there was nothing in this house that was Bae's, he had packed it all in preparation for his now postponed trip, it was all in a suitcase in the apartment above the shop. When she did remember, he would owe her that story though. He had dodged it once under the pretense of not remembering his promise, and then... But the next time she asked, he would tell her the truth, however painful. But then what was this about? She looked rather dejected taking the seat beside him. "What's that?" Gold felt himself relax slightly, so that was what this was about.

"A toaster, it cooks slices of bread," he replied gently, offering a soft smile, but her frown seemed only to grow.

"I should know that," she replied sadly shaking her head. "And that?"

"Refrigerator, it keeps food cold so it doesn't spoil." Belle's hung her head in shame.

"It's so simple. How did I think those things were accomplished, magic," she whispered berating herself. Gold was off his chair and pulling her into his arms before the first tear even fell off her cheek. "I don't remember... any of it. I... God, I... maybe it was better, in that pla-."

"No," he interrupted firmly. "You do not belong there, you never did, and you are **_never_** going back, not as long as I have anything to say about it, do you understand me?" She hiccuped softly, pulling her tear-stained face from his shoulder to meet his gaze once more, before nodding.

She didn't recognize any of the appliances. She really thought she might belong back in the hospital? It wasn't just her memories she didn't trust, she didn't trust herself. Suddenly his beauty, his brave, confident 'caretaker' seemed impossibly far away. How could he tell her it wasn't her fault? This just confirmed what he had already begun to suspect, that sometime before or after the queen had informed him of her death she had taken her, and kept her imprisoned ever since. She didn't have the luxury of the false memories the others had. He had hoped to ease her back into the world she had been convinced were dreams or crazy delusions, but now he wasn't sure how long he would be able to see her like this.

Even teary-eyed she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but he couldn't just kiss her as Henry had instructed could he? He was a stranger to her. She didn't remember who he was much less love him, and who was to say she would still love him after she remembered what he'd done and said to her... If this was a part of the curse, nothing short of True Love was going to do it. Could he risk forcing himself on her and praying it would work? No, Gold thought, he couldn't. He was still every bit the coward he had ever been. But maybe, just maybe... he could win her heart again, and if he was gentle..patient, perhaps he could help her find her memories, and the young woman he first fell in love with again.

"No more tears," he whispered softly, wiping the remaining tracks from her cheeks. She pressed into his hand before gently resting his forehead against hers, offering a weak smile. "I will teach you about everything in here, I promise" he comforted gesturing to the kitchen at large. "But for now, I have something to show you," he smiled taking her hand in his and leading her back up the stairs.

Jefferson hadn't lied when he told her Mr. Gold would protect her, but this was far too much, Belle thought. Surely he had better things to do than teach her about simple machines a child should know about. "You are still thinking about it dearie," he whispered softly shaking his head when they had stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall. Belle blushed, ducking to avoid his eyes, was she really that obvious? "Go on," he encouraged, placing her hand on the doorknob.

Every wall of the room had been made into a sturdy bookshelf with books of every size, shape, color, and every subject anyone could possibly wish to read or learn about. For a moment Belle forgot all about the strange metal boxes in the kitchen she didn't understand, about the last god knew how many years of her life trapped in a larger concrete box, even Mr. Gold until her need to trace her fingertips over the spine of each tome, and her ear to ear grin made him laugh.

"I've never seen this many books before," she said in awe. At least not that I can remember, she thought, looking to him for some sort of reassurance.

"I never had many books before," he confirmed softly without her asking what she clearly wanted, but was reluctant to. "But you loved to read, you must have read what books I had a dozen times."

"Why are you so kind to me?" There was no distrust in her voice, just curiosity and wonder. Because I love you, he thought desperately, but he bit his tongue. He shook his head, scarcely able to drag his chin up to look at her, how could he not be? "It was you," she whispered softly surprised. "The one Regina said would never come to see me." It had to be, Belle thought, staring into this incredible man's watery eyes. Who was this man, Belle never wanted to remember more in her whole life, but her mind could only seem to retrieve more of her dreams and foolish fantasies. The man in front of her was many things, but a cursed imp? No, that was crazy.

"I thought you were dead," he whispered softly. "I thought I'd lost you forever, that I would never see you again. Belle if I had known, if I had thought for one second you were still alive I would have spent every minute of every day searching for you. Instead I spent every minute of every day thinking about and missing you. I'm so sorry Belle," he choked, stumbling into the chair beside the door, and burying his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have believed her, I should never have given up. You would never have given up." She shook her head coming to kneel beside him as his palms dropped to his knees to cover her hands, they were trembling.

All of the emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him when he had seen her last night, since he had heard from the queen that she was dead, he had managed to put on hold. He had to see that she was alright, that she wasn't just a figment of his desperate and lonely imagination. He had to protect her. But now, now that she was here, real, safe, home, everything he had refused to allow himself to feel came flooding back, and spilled over. He didn't want to cry in front of her, Mr. Gold craved so much more from this angel than her pity, but fighting back the tears now was a futile battle.

"No more tears," she echoed gently offering him a soft smile, and wiping a strand of his hair from his hand and tucking it tenderly behind his ear. "I don't blame you for what that woman did to me."

"But you should," he whispered ashamed, clinging to her desperately as he pulled her up into the chair between his legs and into his arms. She allowed it to happen, sliding her arms around behind him to hold him as sobs continued to rock through him. "You should," he repeated softly into her hair. A lifetime of kindness would never make it up to her, he thought as he choked back another sob. "I'm so sorry Belle. I'm so sorry."


	8. Chapter 8: Beautiful Nightmare

They sat there for some time, foreheads pressed together, content to simply hold one another without a word passing between them. Unlike some of the other gestures, when their hands brushed one another' or when he had squeezed her shoulder to make sure she was real it didn't have the deja vu sensation that she should remember this, but Belle felt comfortable, safe, for the first time in years, and soon felt her eyes growing heavy. Feeling his own eyes beginning to droop Gold was sore to part from her. The smell and softness of her hair as he brushed his fingertips through it, the warmth and the way her tiny frame fit perfectly into his was not something he wanted to forfeit, but both would no doubt be sore if they slept here. Gold was already feeling the effects of having slept on the couch in the apartment above the shop, but looking down at Belle sleeping peacefully in his arms, he couldn't bring himself to regret giving her the single bed. He would have given her more if he'd had it. Now, as he gingerly lifted them both from the chair he was glad he had been sentimental enough to build a room in her memory, and ignoring the dull throb in his leg he carried her across the hall to her room.

It was decidedly more inconvenient and painful as he pulled the comforter up around her to keep her warm, leaning with his bad knee against the box spring for support, but she was worth it he thought smiling. He had been stabilizing himself to return and get his cane, perhaps limp down the hall to his own room and take a short nap himself, when a delicate hand wrapped itself around hers. She hadn't opened her eyes, but she had a surprisingly firm grip for someone who was barely conscious.

"Stay," she whispered incredibly softly.

His bad knee trembled, and he let it fall back against the mattress for balance as he fought internally with himself. She was lonely, frightened, and had spent just shy of three decades without any human contact besides Regina's abusive visits. She needed someone, and she wanted him. It would be wrong to leave her alone now. But this wasn't any ordinary young woman who had been so neglected and mistreated, who was so desperate for human contact and company. This was Belle, the one and only woman he had ever loved, though he had never been able to tell her so. The woman he had thought dead, lost to him forever. The happy ending he could never have, ripped from the monster's grasp. Never in this world, or the last had Rumpelstiltskin or the Dark One kept the opposite side of her bed warm. Surely if he gave in now, if he knew what it felt like to hold her in his arms, he would never be able to let her go.

"Please," she begged. She had opened her eyes now, and from the moment his gaze met her deep blue, teary eyes he knew he could never hope to walk out of the room and away from her request. Only when he nodded, did she reluctantly let go of his wrist, and immediately it seemed despite her exhausted state, she rolled over and pulled back the sheets and comforter to make room for him to climb in beside her. He had thought he might sleep atop them to give her some semblance of privacy and modest, but she clearly was having no more of his chivalry.

Gold smiled, remembering her stubbornness when their deal had first been struck. **_"No one decides my fate, but me." _**The same it seemed was still true 28-years later.

"Oh my darling Belle," he whispered softly, as the steady and shallow rise and fall of her chest indicated she had drifted off to sleep beside him. "I could never leave you, sweetheart." His breath was so close to her skin it was sure to be tickling her ear, and he might have done it then. Might have kissed her and broken the curse or delusions that still held sway over her reclaiming her memories of their old world, he was sure she had never looked more innocent, peaceful, and beautiful as she did in sleeping wrapped up in his arms, certain that he had never loved her more, but no. It would hardly be fair to steal a kiss from a sleeping girl. He would wait, if they were to kiss in this world it would be her idea, he would wait as long as it took. Forever if he had to, he thought, gently sinking further into the comforter and pillows as she pulled his arms tighter about her.

The dreams were back, this couldn't be real, but for once they seemed a little clearer, less hazy than before. She supposed she had the lack of sedatives scrambling her mind to thank for that. Belle was standing in the middle of a great stone hall that somehow seemed very familiar. She had dreamed herself her a hundred times before, every night she was in that dark place, but now it was as if the dream had opened itself up to her, simply waited expectantly for her to explore it. Cautiously she took a step forward, she had meant to push the great wood doors that separated her from the next room, but as she approached them they swung open of their own accord to reveal a large dining room. Sunlight streamed in from the large westward facing windows highlighting a long and old looking wooden table with two chairs and tea set for two. Belle frowned, something didn't seem right about the scene in front of her. The second chair had been pulled up beside the head of the table's seat rather than drawn up at the opposite end as it had always been in all of her other dreams. Continuing to explore the room, she found another new addition.

The chipped cup. That pedestal, in all her dreams before it had held a golden chalice, she was sure of it. That was the chipped cup Mr. Gold had told her about in his shop, the one that had belonged to a princess, she was sure of it. But it had no place here, in her dreams, it was an object from the real world. She shook her head, another delusion, she thought miserably, it had to be.

"This isn't real," she whispered to the room at large, tears filling her eyes. She hadn't even noticed the steady squeaking from the corner until it suddenly halted drawing her attention to a large spinning wheel in the corner and a sad-looking leather-clad man who sat at it. The beast, her prince. His skin was a rather unnatural shade of gold, and his hair hung in loose wavy curls about his face, but the resemblance was unmistakable- Mr. Gold. "You aren't real either," she whispered sadly, shaking her head and the tears lose from her eyes.


	9. Chapter 9: What's in a Name

She was crying, Gold realized waking up with a start. "Belle," Gold whispered softly having woken up to the sounds of her sobbing, and her body trembling against his, gently clasping her shoulder and shaking her. "Belle sweetheart, wake up. It's alright," he soothed as she stirred, clinging to him and burrowing herself deeper into his chest. "Don't cry, no more tears, remember? It was just a dream. You're alright, you're safe," Gold continued, gently stroking her hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. She shook her head, suddenly leaping away from his touch as though it had burned her.

"No," she whispered terrified, eyes shut tight, clutching her head and shaking it fiercely. "No, no. Stop it," she whispered frantically, leaping from the bed. Unfortunately, the tossing and turning that had preceded his waking her had wrapped the sheets about her leg in a tangled mess that was not ready to let her go yet, and she tumbled to the hard wood floor with a bang.

"Belle," Gold yelled, diving across the bed in a vain attempt to arrest her fall. Her head hit the wood floor with a sickening sounding crack, but the young woman was too frightened to pay the dizziness and throbbing any mind as she scuttled across the floor.

She had backed into the corner, still clutching her head whispering furiously by the time Gold was kneeling on the floor across from her ignoring the dull throb in his knee from crouching. "Delusions of grandeur, projection, clinging to fantasy, disconnect from reality... risk of psychosis," she whispered frantically eyes shooting open wide in terror as she met his own. "You have to take me back."

"No," he replied immediately. "Never," he swore softly. "Belle there is nothing wrong with you."

"You don't know that," she insisted looking terrified. "The dreams, they're back. The sedatives-they're sure to be out of my system by now, I'm dangerous. It's not safe for you to have me around."

"No, of course it is sweetheart," he whispered, trying to calm her down as he approached her, offering his arms to hold her. Belle froze. So suddenly Gold was terrified the blow to her head might have done more damage than either had yet to realize. "Belle," he ventured fearfully.

"Were we," she asked in barely a whisper.

"Were we what?"

"Sweethearts," she repeated softly, studying cautiously.

"Belle," he whispered carefully, attempting to scoot closer to her and pull her into his arms. She shrank away from him, pulling herself into an impossibly smaller ball in the corner of the room, so he stopped, waiting.

"Mr. Gold-" she began, but she stopped laughing. A cold hollow laugh that had no humor or light in it that chilled him, sending a shiver up his spine. "I don't even know your first name," she laughed. "I keep having these dreams that can't possibly be real. A castle, that teacup, and you. Except you have wavy hair, and your skin-it's a sort of gold color. But it's always been you, even in the hospital, before I could remember your real face. I can't remember anything from before that cell, but I remembered you," she whispered. "And I remember your lips," she admitted, her gaze suddenly transfixed by them. "I remember kissing you. How can I remember kissing you, but not your name?" She looked on the verge of tears now.

"Belle," Gold whispered softly.

"You never answered me," she continued. "You said we never lived here, but when I asked if we had ever lived together before, you changed the subject. You said we ended on bad terms, and you wanted me to remember on my own. Just one thing, just tell me one thing-prove to me I've not completely lost my mind, and I promise I won't try to run off and have myself recommitted. You're gentle, and kind- you're patient with me, you're not like that with anyone else I've watched you. Were we sweethearts? Before," all this, she thought sadly.

"Belle dearie, it's not that simple."

"Yes it is. I'm either completely round the twist and dangerous to you, or I'm not. Seems like a simple yes or no question to me."

"No darling, we were never sweethearts," Gold replied regretfully.

"No," she repeated looking stunned. "No, but I remember kissing you. So then I am-"

"No. No, no, Belle," he pleaded tearfully, begging his beautiful girl to see reason. How could he lose her when he had just got her back? Perhaps she had never truly escaped, maybe the queen had allowed her chess piece to escape to see her fall to pieces in front of him- to drive him mad too. And she could. Easily. And only she could, there was no other person in the world that he'd allow close enough to his heart to do so. Mr. Gold tried to draw her closer to hold her, even as she pulled farther away. Just to touch her, to hold her in his arms perhaps then he could convince her...

"You're not crazy," he repeated desperately, wanting nothing more than to pull her back into his arms and never let her go again. "We weren't sweethearts, but you were right. We could have been, I might have been happy, but I threw it away. I was too afraid to believe that you could love me. You loved me, you kissed me, and I pushed you away. And I've regretted it every day since." Belle stopped shrinking from him to study him carefully. She had stopped trying to make herself a part of the wall now, and looked as though she might be considering his still open and waiting arms now. Please, he thought, arms still outstretched for her.

"Like the princess' cup," she tested.

"Yes! Like the cup," he replied eagerly. Remember, he pleaded silently. Please darling, remember.

"Did you tell me that story to try and help me remember?"

"I hoped that it might," he nodded. "You're not crazy Belle, and even if you were you would never hurt me. You would never hurt anyone, it isn't in you. That's Regina and what those nurses did to you talking. Fight them, stop them, don't let them win. You wouldn't hurt me. I know you," he insisted. "I love you," he confessed.

"What's your first name?" Gold hesitated, not exactly the response he had been expecting or hoping to hear, but she simply waited, still watching him.

"Very few know it, fewer use it," he replied.

"But if I loved you, and you loved me... I must have known your name," she persisted. "Please," she begged. "I can't- I need something, my memories, these dreams... I don't know what to trust-what's real-anymore."

"They call me Nicholas Gold here," he replied finally, shaking his head knowing all the while this would not help her to remember. How could it, she had never lived or needed another name, another life and memories beyond the four walls of her cell.

"And what did I call you," she whispered softly. Clever perceptive girl, Gold half smiled.

"Rum-" he whispered softly, voice shaking a little. "You knew me as Rumpelstiltskin," he admitted finally.


End file.
